


Family

by uena



Series: The Sweetest Thing [12]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis accompanies Athos to the orphanage.</p><p>- Which somehow leads to him meeting Athos' nieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princeyoungjaes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeyoungjaes/gifts).



"She's grown so big."

Flea looks down at Aramis, sitting in the middle of the big common room with Gwen in his arms while the other children wreak havoc around them, and smiles at him. "She certainly has. And if you'd get your pretty ass in gear and visit more often, you wouldn't sound so sad about it either."

She sounds friendly enough, so Aramis doesn't take it the wrong way. Instead he brushes Gwen's soft dark hair off her forehead and smiles when she squeaks at him. "I didn't want to get in the way," he says softly. "I don't work here after all, and just because I'm Porthos' -"

"Oh, shut up," Flea interrupts him impatiently. She's darning socks, half a million of them as far as Aramis can tell, and since she won't let him help he has the baby all to himself. "You're always welcome here, you moron. The kids love you."

Since Porthos has entrusted Aramis with the secret that Flea only calls people names she really cares about, he levels a dazzling smile at her and gently cradles the baby from left to right when she gets fussy.

They sit in relative silence for a few minutes and then Flea clears her throat. "So. You're here with Athos?"

"Yes," Aramis replies distractedly - helps Gwen reach up and close her little fist around a strand of his hair. "He said I should come and say hi to the kids while he talks finances with the Captain."

"He said that, did he," Flea drawls in an unimpressed tone that confuses Aramis a little.

"Yes," he says, his eyes wide. "He says I should really visit more often because … well, because you're Porthos' family and I -" He stops himself and blushes, hurriedly looks down at Gwen.

Flea clears her throat again. "So let me get this straight: the most anti-social man on the planet is giving you advice on mingling? And you take it?"

This time Aramis is the one to get fussy. "Athos is an _introvert_ , okay - it doesn't make him anti-social. He loves the kids, and -"

"Okay, settle down there Lancelot, I didn't mean to insult your sovereign." Flea sounds highly amused as she interrupts him, and her amusement disarms Aramis just as much as Gwen who seems oddly intent on grabbing his nose. He hoists her a little higher in his arms so she ran reach it and give it an enthusiastic squeeze, and when he dares to look up at Flea again, she's contemplating him with an oddly soft expression on her face. "How you thought you could ever be in the way I have no idea - just look at you: all sugar and rainbows with that baby. You're really good with kids, anyone ever tell you that?"

Aramis feels himself flush, is so very pleased to be complimented that he doesn't even mind when a cushion hits him in the back of his head - in contrast to Flea, who takes exception to poorly aimed projectiles, no matter how soft they are. "You cut that out Teddy - he's holding your little sister!"

Teddy says he's sorry, and he sounds so sincere that Aramis smiles at him, tells him it's quite alright before he turns his attention back to Flea. "My oldest sister has kids you know - four of them."

Fleas expression goes even softer. "You miss them."

It's not a question, so Aramis doesn't say anything in return. Flea isn't wrong. He does miss his family. Misses his parents and his sisters, even his dragon of a grandmother. He calls them on the phone a lot, skypes with them quite regularly, but it's not the same as being there, it never has been. But he left home for a reason, and that reason still stands, even after so many years. His parents live in a tight-knit community, and communities like that are slow to forget.

Aramis' somewhat melancholy train of thought promptly changes rails when Athos enters the room. He smiles up at him, smiles even brighter when Athos makes a beeline for him and sits down right next to him on the big floor-cushion. "According to Charon and Porthos, dinner is almost ready," he drawls, reaches out and strokes a gentle finger across Gwen's cheek.

"I am glad to hear that," Flea says. "Because ten more minutes of this and I'm gonna poke someone's eye out with this needle." She puts her darning away and pulls her feet up into the armchair she's sitting in, rests her chin on her knees. "Aramis tells me you asked him to accompany you here, grumpy-grumps."

Athos doesn't even blink, is still looking at Gwen. "And you doubt his truthfulness?"

Flea grins. "Not at all, no. I merely find it interesting is all. You take him with you often when you leave your cave?"

Aramis frowns at her choice of words, but Athos' face suggests the hint of a smile. "Why do you ask?"

"Because he's Porthos' boyfriend and I find it odd," Flea answers breezily. "Or was I right in thinking that you both adopted him?"

"He is right here," Athos says softly, a hint of reproach in his voice, and Flea lifts her left brow.

"I can see that." She doesn't add anything. All she does is look from one to the other as though she's searching for something.

It would make Aramis nervous if he wasn't sitting right next to Athos. Thankfully Porthos picks that moment to come in and announce that dinner is ready. Flea promptly springs up out of her chair and marches over to him, grasps him by his upper arm and pulls him outside, leaving a rather confused Aramis behind. He raises his brows and looks at Athos, who doesn't seem to find Flea's behaviour at all strange. But then again he's looking down at Gwen again, and it's entirely possible that he didn't even take notice of it.

Aramis studies the expression on Athos' face, and his own goes soft, warm and open. "Do you want to hold her?"

Athos turns his head and smiles at him, doesn't drawl at all when he answers. "I would love that."

When Porthos comes back in to get them they're still sitting on the floor, Athos holding Gwen while she clings to Aramis' finger.

"Your dinner's gettin' cold," Porthos rebukes them fondly. "Do I have to take that baby away from you?"

Athos looks up at him, his eyes sparkling. "You can try."

Porthos doesn't try. Instead he grins, wide and warm and comes closer, crouches down in front of them. "You know what this means, don't you?"

Aramis blinks from one to the other, somewhat distracted by Porthos' sudden proximity. Athos sighs. "Alright. Yes. Will this weekend be soon enough for you?"

Porthos grins a little wider. "Not really. But I'm gonna pretend that it is - and you have to admit that it's time Aramis met the Princess Squad."

"Yes," Athos drawls, gently handing over the baby to Porthos who cradles her in one arm and reaches out the other to help him to his feet. "It really is time. He's their honorary uncle too now, after all."


	2. Chapter 2

Athos has nieces, three of them. They are four, six, and eight years old, and they adore their uncle Athos like other children adore magicians ... or elves. Porthos claims it's all that hair - makes him look mysterious. He says so while holding the oldest up on his shoulders, gives her a little fist-bump when she giggles. 

Aramis is completely in love. With everything. The girls are adorable, look just like their father, who in turn looks so much like Athos that Aramis doesn't feel shy around him at all. Thomas is a sober man, neatly dressed and coiffed, but there's a warmth about him that is so much like Athos' that it puts Aramis completely at ease. He's holding his youngest on his knees, a shy little darling that keeps clinging to her Daddy's shirt front. The bemused expression on Thomas' face suggests that his daughter isn't usually this intent on staying close to him, but he combs his fingers through her soft brown hair in an effort to soothe her nevertheless. 

"Is it me?" Aramis asks after a while, when the way Athos guides the 6-year old's hand while she paints him a picture is no longer a sufficient distraction. "Is she afraid of me?" 

"M not afraid of _anyone_ ," is the affronted reply, and Aramis becomes the recipient of an evil glare. 

He smiles a little helplessly. "Then what did I do?" 

Athos clears his throat. "You stole her boyfriend," he drawls without looking up. 

Luckily Aramis knows precisely how to handle this. He's great with children, always has been. Athos' nieces shouldn't be any different. … At least he hopes so. Thus Aramis puts both hands over his heart and sits bolt upright in an effort to look dramatic. "Porthos, you _fiend_ ," he says in a shocked voice. "You didn't tell me you were already spoken for." 

Angelique softens perceptibly thanks to this performance. She scrambles off her father's lap and comes over to Aramis, looks up at him out of huge green eyes. "You really didn't know?" 

Aramis makes a profoundly solemn face. "I really didn't know." 

The assurance earns him a smile and the order to lift her up onto his lap. "You're pretty," she tells him once safely installed and leaning into his arm. "I like your hair." 

"I was about to say the same thing to you," Aramis confides, glances at Thomas when he makes a muffled noise sounding suspiciously like smothered laughter. "You look just like your Dad." 

"Yes, I know," Angelique beams at him. "Mommy's really mad about that; people always think we're Uncle Athos' daughters when we're out with him." 

Since Athos and Thomas are now both sufficiently flustered - Thomas from the compliment Aramis paid him and Athos because of issues of paternity - Porthos takes it upon himself to diffuse the situation by serving the cheesecake he baked for the occasion. He lifts Rebecca off his shoulders, and she assists him in his task, carries plates and silverware and sets the table while he cuts the cake. 

Aramis watches them until Angelique asks him if it takes long to get his beard into shape; then Aramis grins, uses both hands to describe his morning routine to her. She seems fairly impressed. Athos watches him with a little smile, and then he lowers his head until it's right next to Melissa's. "Would you mind if I left you for a moment to make coffee?" 

She generously releases him from his supervisory duties, and lifts an imperious finger when he gets up. "I want cocoa!" 

Athos performs a neat little bow. "You shall have it." 

She giggles and Athos smiles, and Aramis' heart performs an exited little jump inside his chest. He's never seen Athos quite like this before. As great as Athos is with the children at the orphanage, he's still different around his nieces. It's quite obvious that they grew up adoring their Uncle, that Athos loves them with all his heart and is fiercely proud of being loved by them in return. Aramis understands that all too well. The girls are lovely. They are well-mannered and sweet, endearingly honest, and if they are spoiled, it's affection they're spoiled with. 

Rebecca comes over to him when she's done with setting the table. Her eyes are a little bit darker than Angelique's, flecked with brown and amber, and they sparkle with mischief when she looks up at him. "Mommy says you must be very special." 

The announcement draws a nervous cough out of her father, and he clears his throat. "Your Mommy was joking, darling." 

Rebecca regards him with exaggerated amazement. "He's not special?" 

Thomas groans. "Rebecca -" 

"What did Evangeline say?" Athos asks from the stove where he's diligently preparing coffee and cocoa. "Did she spin that tale about the touching connection between Porthos and myself again? I am quite fond of that one." 

"She did!" Rebecca exclaims, clearly satisfied that her Uncle is so very smart. "So, you see Aramis _has_ to be very special if Uncle Porthos likes him better than you." 

Her words are followed by an awkward moment of silence, and she blushes furiously, levels an agonized gaze at Porthos, who winks at her. "Not better, honey - just different. Uncle Athos is still my favourite in many, many ways." 

"Yes," Athos drawls. "I make very good coffee, do I not?" 

"The best," Porthos assures him smoothly. 

Aramis loves them a lot. As does everyone else present, which results in an exceptionally pleasant atmosphere. Athos finishes his coffee and cocoa preparations, and they settle down to eat. Porthos serves them fruit salad with the cheesecake, and the girls munch happily, as does Aramis, who appears to experience some sort of culinary orgasm. 

"This is amazing," he mumbles while gesturing at the cheesecake with his fork. "You should bake this more often!" 

"I will," Porthos promises him in a soft voice. He leans sideways, brushes a kiss to Aramis' forehead. "I'm glad you like it so much." 

No-one at the table pays the gesture any special attention. All this display of affection results in is Angelique asking for more cheesecake and her father denying her, arguing she will make herself sick. When she appeals to her Uncle Athos he raises his brow at her, smiling fondly. "Have you forgotten the hallway carpet?" 

"She barfed on the hallway carpet," Porthos informs Aramis in a low voice before addressing the pouting girl. "Tell you what, sweetness: you're spendin' the night here anyway, you can have cheesecake for breakfast tomorrow." 

This ruling earns him the title of Best Uncle Ever, a sobriquet Aramis is inclined to agree with. He loves cheesecake for breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

Thomas leaves after coffee. He kisses his little girls, smiles at Aramis, shakes Porthos' hand, and then he hugs his brother. For a long moment they stand next to the hallway door, just holding each other. Eventually Thomas gives Athos a mighty squeeze and lets go of him. "You're coming for dinner tomorrow evening," he says decisively. "All of you. Eve's going to do me horrible harm if that doesn't happen."

To be included in such a summons makes Aramis glow a little, while Athos _smirks_ at his brother. "And this is supposed to be an incentive for us to accept your invitation?" The question earns him a slap to the chest and Athos laughs, a sound Aramis' ears aren't quite accustomed to. "We will be there, don't you worry," Athos says with a fond little smile. Then he sobers and clears his throat, levels a somewhat wide-eyed gaze at Porthos. "Unless you would prefer to spend your time with -"

"We'll be there," Porthos interrupts him decisively. "It's been too long since I've seen Eve - and I want her to meet Aramis."

Aramis glows a little more, especially when Athos smiles at Porthos, soft and grateful. "Very well then." He gives Thomas another hug. "You heard him."

Thomas informs them that his wife will hurt them all should they change their minds, and then he's gone.

"Mommy never hurts anyone," Angelique muses in a confused little voice. "Why keeps Daddy telling people that she does?"

"He wanted to be an actor when he was twelve," Athos informs her smoothly. "He never got it out of his system."

She accepts this instantly and then reaches up her arms, demands to be carried. Athos plucks her from the floor and installs her in his arms, carries her back into the living room. "What do you want to do now?"

"I want Uncle Porthos to tell us a _story_ ," she proclaims. "I want to know how he met Aramis!"

Aramis blinks at her, receives a radiant smile in return. "Mommy says it must be a very romantic story!"

Aramis blinks some more. "I don't know about that, Angie - I met Porthos online you know."

Rebecca stares at him. "On the _internet_? But we're not supposed to meet people on the internet! Weren't you scared?"

Aramis flushes a little when he realizes that he has the attention of all three girls now. He clears his throat and rakes his fingers through his hair, plops down on the sofa. "Not scared, no. We'd been talking for months before. He wasn't a _stranger_."

"You girls never meet with strangers you met on the internet, you hear me?" Porthos cuts in smoothly. "If you want to meet a new friend, you take someone with you. You never go alone."

"Did you take someone with you?" Melissa asks in a suspicious voice. "Because I don't think you did."

"Well you're wrong," Porthos informs her smugly. "I had Alice with me."

"Not Uncle Athos?" Rebecca sounds scandalized, and Aramis has trouble keeping a straight face, but Porthos takes it all in stride.

"Uncle Athos was in Italy, honey - Alice was the next best thing."

"I am going to inform her that you said that," Athos murmurs in a low voice. He's smiling again, sits down on the sofa next to Aramis, Angelique still in his arms.

"That doesn't sound very romantic," she says forlornly, plops down between Athos and Aramis and stares up at them with huge, disappointed eyes.

"Oh, but it was," Aramis assures her gently. "You see, I was very nervous to meet your Uncle Porthos - and when I saw him in person for the first time, my heart started to beat so very fast. He'd brought me flowers and _everything_."

"Were there swans?" Melissa inquires. "I think there should always be swans."

"Sadly not, no," Porthos says with a warm grin. "There were sparrows though."

"Sparrows are cute," Angelique states. "I like sparrows."

"Swans are better," Melissa insists. "Don't you think so Aramis?"

"Well, they're certainly bigger," Aramis contemplates, tilting his head to the side.

Rebecca groans. "Why do you keep interrupting the story? Who cares about swans and sparrows? I want to know what happened!"

"What happened was that Aramis was so nervous that I had to feed him Alice's famous chocolate cake to calm him down," Porthos picks up the thread and finally joins them on the couch. "He was very fiddly and very, very cute. I just had to take him home."

Rebecca narrows her eyes at him. "I hope you asked him first."

Porthos snorts in an attempt to control his laughter. "Yes," he manages to say. "Yes, sweetness, I asked him first. He wanted to see Bert."

"The green bush you gave Uncle Athos for company when he paints!" Angelique exclaims. "I remember!"

Porthos leans over and grabs her, drags her into his lap. "You are absolutely right honey! And guess what Aramis and I found when we came here!"

"I don't know! What did you find?"

"A mountain man," Aramis says softly. It just slips out. And now everyone's staring at him. He clears his throat, tries to fight a blush, but he just _knows_ that he's lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Athos, I mean!" he stammers out. "Your Uncle Athos was home! Unexpectedly! And he had a really bushy beard, and really long hair, and I -"

"And he made Aramis really, really nervous," Porthos cuts in. "Even more nervous than he is right now. It was adorable."

The girls giggle, and Melissa snuggles closer to Aramis, gazes up at him out of trusting eyes. "Uncle Porthos says you gave Uncle Athos a haircut."

"I … yes, I did," Aramis confirms, raking his fingers through his own curls. "He'd invited me to a soiree, and I -"

"Can you cut my hair too?" Melissa asks. "I want it short, like yours!"

Aramis' eyes flick towards Athos, helpless and unsure, and Athos gives him a reassuring nod. "They can do whatever they want with their hair, Eve doesn't mind."

"Then I most certainly can cut your hair," Aramis tells Melissa. "We can surprise your Mom and Dad, yes? You think they're going to like that?"

She nods and grins up at him, pats his stomach in a horribly grown-up manner. "I like you. Uncle Porthos has good taste."

Aramis couldn't wish for a better seal of approval, even if it came in gold.


	4. Chapter 4

"You _have_ to, Aramis," Melissa says in an earnest voice. "It's tradition." 

Aramis blinks at her. "It is?" 

She nods, just as earnest as before. Aramis blinks again. It's not that he would mind. He isn't even surprised. The girls share Athos' bed when they sleep over, and Athos bunks with Porthos. Sounds good to him. The guest room is for guests, and neither of the mentioned falls into this category. It makes sense. Aramis just isn't sure if their tradition still applies to the new development. Namely him. He has no idea if it still applies to _him_. 

Maybe Athos would prefer to sleep in the guest r- in Aramis' room? Or maybe he would prefer if _Aramis_ slept in Aramis' room, and Athos slept in Porthos' bed, as per tradition. Aramis wouldn't blame him. (It would make much more sense.) But he thinks it would make him a little sad. He's contemplating that question with a slight frown on his face when Athos comes into the room, wearing his fanciest pyjamas (in a dark, woodsy green that makes him look like an elf … possibly a hobbit.) "The bathroom is free, you can go and brush your teeth Melissa." 

She jumps up and scrambles away, and Athos' attention naturally turns towards Aramis. "Is something wrong?" 

Aramis' frown is a small one, so Athos only sounds mildly concerned, but Aramis still goes a little warm - can't even tell if he feels gratified or embarrassed … it's probably a mixture of both. 

"Melissa told me about your tradition," he says, trying to sound cheerful. 

Athos tilts his head. "Tradition?" 

"With the sleeping arrangements when the girls are here," Aramis adds, trying to sound even more cheerful. "I'm told you always share Porthos' bed and give yours to the ladies." 

For a moment Athos doesn't react. When he finally opens his mouth to reply, Porthos materializes beside him. "Aramis, why are you still dressed? Everyone else is ready for bed. Rebecca even _flossed_." 

Aramis looks up at him from his place on the couch, feeling somewhat helpless. He doesn't know how to ask the question burning a hole through his consciousness, doesn't know what to _do_. He's aware that he's being ridiculous. That doesn't make it better. 

Porthos, because he's Porthos, picks up on it right away. He frowns and tilts his head, just like Athos did, but when he opens his mouth to ask Aramis what's wrong, Athos grabs his arm and leans in to whisper into his ear. Porthos keeps still for Athos while his expression undergoes a few changes - while it morphs from surprise and confusion to blank incomprehension. It eventually settles on fond helplessness, and then Porthos advances on Aramis, crouches down in front of him and smiles. "You think I would let you sleep alone?" 

Aramis blushes furiously. "The tradition!" he stammers. He has no idea what else to say. 

"You're very cute," Porthos tells him, "and you're sleepin' with me and Athos tonight, understood?" 

Aramis couldn't possibly blush any harder, has just about enough energy left to manage a weak nod. "Okay." 

Porthos grins at him, and leans in for a kiss. "Very good. Now get ready for bed. The girls are gettin' impatient for their good-night story." 

Thus Aramis finds himself on Athos' bed ten minutes later. He's wearing one of Athos' pyjamas again, is sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed and watching Athos as he tucks in his nieces. If Rebecca harbours any resentment over being put to bed at the same time as her 4-year old sister, she doesn't show it. She looks just as conked out as the other two, tries to stifle a yawn behind her hand and fails quite spectacularly. 

"Oh, look at that," Porthos says with a teasing grin. "You don't even need a story, do you." 

"Nooo," Melissa exclaims, dangerously close to hitting her sister in the face with a cushion. "Stop yawning, Becca! I want my story!" 

Athos glares at Porthos, and Aramis tries to hold in a giggle - is about as successful as Rebecca. Athos glares at him too, and then Angelique makes a grab for his hand and holds it. "Don't you worry Uncle Athos - Uncle Porthos is just teasing," she murmurs, apparently half asleep already. "He always tells us a story." 

All of a sudden Aramis is far too close to melting into the sheets. 

"You heard her," Athos says softly. When Aramis looks at him there's no hint of the previous glare on his face anymore - instead he's smiling, fond and a little helpless. "Tell us a story Uncle Porthos." 

Porthos grins and reaches out to grab the book that's lying on Athos' nightstand. It looks old and worn, its pages are yellow, and Aramis doesn't think that he's ever seen it before. Porthos notices his interest and holds it up for a moment, so Aramis can get a better look. "I've had this since I was five," he says. His voice is low and rough, and he doesn't look at the book, but at Athos. "Athos gave it to me when we met for the third time." 

Athos doesn't add anything at first. He _is_ looking at the book, his face oddly open and vulnerable, but his voice when he does speak is just as smooth as always. He very nearly manages a drawl. "I had to make sure that you really could read after all," he tells them. "You could have just learned that other book by heart." 

Angelique blinks at him. "Did you want to be an actor too when you were twelve? Because that's a _lie_ Uncle Athos - just like when Daddy tells people that Mommy is going to do him harm." 

"Yes, that's right munchkin, you call him out on his nonsense," Porthos says approvingly. "Your Uncle Athos loves me, and you know it!" 

"Yes, I do," she confirms happily. "I know lots of things!" 

All Aramis knows is that those girls are going to be the death of him.


	5. Chapter 5

"It's half past nine," Aramis says, somewhat bemused. "Don't you think it's a bit early? … For bed, I mean." 

Athos and Porthos look up at him, eyes wide in exaggeration. They're both in bed already while Aramis remains standing, and they look so _comfortable_ \- with each other and the situation. 

"It is tradition," Athos tells Aramis with a fond little smirk. "We go to bed when the girls do; that way they do not miss anything." He's stretched out on his belly on the mattress, wearing his dark green pyjamas and cradling his head in his arms, and Aramis wants to _snuggle_ him. He won't, of course, but he wants to. Athos has never looked this snuggly. 

Porthos is lying right next to Athos, studying him out of the corner of his eye, and then he suddenly rolls over - rolls on top of Athos and flattens him into the sheets. "Eeeh, I've missed this," he says, the satisfaction thick in his voice. "And you're wearin' my favourite pyjamas, too!" 

Aramis can only blink at them. Porthos covers Athos from head to toe, and Athos stays quiet for so very long that Aramis starts to worry that Porthos might have pressed all air out of him - might have pressed all _life_ out of him. When Athos finally speaks his voice sounds muffled, but his drawl still shines through, as lively as can be. "I think you are giving Aramis a wrong impression of what usually happens during these nights." 

Porthos promptly turns his head to grin at Aramis, and Aramis finds himself smiling back. "You give him some cuddles?" he hazards, because that's clearly what this is, even if Aramis thinks that Porthos could go about it with a little more … tenderness. 

"Whether I want them or not," Athos drawls, just when Porthos winks at Aramis. 

"Eh, you love this." 

Athos doesn't lose a beat. "That's what you keep telling me." 

Porthos snorts and rolls off him, but he doesn’t let go of Athos - puts one arm around him and pulls him flush against his chest. Athos doesn't protest, but he does look up at Aramis - uncertain, as if asking for his permission. Once more, Aramis can only blink at them. He finds that he not only approves of what is happening right in front of him, no, it makes him bizarrely happy. As if Porthos snuggling Athos is a vital part of Aramis' happiness. Maybe it is. Because Porthos and Athos both are - vital to Aramis' happiness that is - so it's probably normal that the two of them together like this quadruples the sensation. Aramis was never very good at math, but that's what he's going to go with here. 

"Either you get the camera and take a picture," Porthos says after a while, "or you join us." He sounds teasing and fond, and Aramis doesn't hesitate to grab his phone off the nightstand and snap a picture. Athos doesn't even groan. He keeps still, lying in Porthos' arms and looking up at Aramis, no longer uncertain and asking for permission, but smiling softly. It's almost the same smile he directed at Porthos earlier, and Aramis can't resist that. He puts his knee on the mattress and lies down, and Porthos doesn't lose any time to reach out and pull him close … until Aramis is lying right in front of Athos, blinking at him in surprise. 

"There," Porthos says, his voice somewhere between contentment and glee, "that's nice isn't it?" 

"You are being excessive," Athos tells him, still looking into Aramis' eyes. "Excessive and self-indulgent." 

"No, he's not," Aramis says quietly. 

If the girls can call Athos out on his nonsense, maybe he can too. Because Porthos isn't the only one drawing enjoyment from this situation. They all are. Aramis can tell. Athos' eyes betray him - even more so now that Aramis spoke up. Aramis' words make Athos relax, make him go soft in Porthos' arms, and Aramis realises that Athos is afraid to hurt him by being close to Porthos - that Athos is afraid that Aramis might take this the wrong way. 

As if he could. Aramis knows what Athos and Porthos mean to each other, he knew it right from the start, and it doesn't threaten him … it doesn't threaten him at all. To prove it to Athos Aramis cuddles closer to him, sandwiches Athos between Porthos and himself, until Porthos cackles with glee and Athos huffs, fond and amused and maybe even a little grateful. He puts his arm around Aramis and buries his hand in Aramis' hair, looks into his eyes. "Just promise me not to tell my mother." 

For a moment Aramis stares at him, and then they start to laugh, all three of them, and Aramis muffles his giggles against Athos' chest. 

"She would love this," Porthos points out, still laughing, and Aramis hears Athos slap his hip. 

"Do not tell her! She will want pictures!" 

"She always does," Porthos concedes, trying to sound solemn, and Aramis giggles some more, looks up at Athos with shining eyes. 

"As far as I'm concerned she can have them." 

"That is because you are pretty," Athos drawls, "and Porthos keeps reminding you of that fact." 

"Aw," Porthos says warmly, "you hear that, Aramis - Athos thinks you're pretty, too." 

"There you go again," Athos murmurs, his hand still in Aramis' hair. "Do you want me to move out of the way now?" 

"Nah," Aramis replies, exchanging a brief look with Porthos. "I like this. And I figure Porthos wants to spoon you tonight anyway - wouldn't want to come between that." 

"Best boyfriend ever," Porthos proclaims, promptly plastering himself against Athos' back. "You're gettin' an extra slice of cheesecake tomorrow for breakfast." 

Aramis doesn't point out that if there is such a thing as the Best Boyfriend Ever, it's undoubtedly Porthos. Doing that would only lead to endless discussions, and Aramis is too comfortable for that. Far too comfortable. Especially when Porthos tells Athos to pet Aramis' hair, and Athos promptly does.


	6. Chapter 6

Aramis doesn't know what he expected. Someone glamorous perhaps. Someone tall and skinny and fashionable, graceful and ethereal. Evangeline de la Fère is without a doubt graceful, and she dresses rather well too, but she's neither tall nor skinny. She is a small woman, plump and comfortable, and the way she looks at Aramis makes him a little nervous. She welcomed him with a smile, smiled a little broader still when Melissa presented her new haircut, and she's so warm and relaxed that Aramis can't help but like her.

It's her eyes that make him nervous - eyes of a brown so dark to be almost black, wide open and curious, fixed on his face with such unblinking interest that it feels as if he's on display, and she the one to verify his worth. Her daughters are exceptionally well-behaved around her, but it's not out of fear, Aramis doesn't think so. Those children don't fear anything or anyone. Evangeline's just so calm, is so utterly relaxed that it spreads - it touches the girls and grounds them in a way Aramis remembers from his own childhood: when his mother would enter a room full of shrieking imps and transform them into little angels in seconds. Just by being there.

Evangeline welcomed Athos with a hug, kissed both his cheeks and let go of him only when Porthos demanded his own hug and his own kisses and enveloped her in his arms until Thomas treated him to a well-aimed kick to the shin. Porthos complained loudly, banter ensued, and Aramis realized with a happy grin that this was a repeat performance, and not one enacted for his benefit. Athos and Porthos are part of this family and treated as such, are always welcome to share in the warmth and comfort of Evangeline's home, and now Aramis is invited into it as well - if he can pass muster, that is.

Him and Porthos are the ones entrusted with the task of getting the girls ready for bed, are the ones watching them brush their teeth and laying out their pyjamas, so all Uncle Athos has to do is tuck them in. They pass each other in the door, and Athos smiles at Aramis, fills him with a warm, content feeling. Instead of returning to the living room where Thomas and Evangeline are waiting for them, Aramis goes to the bathroom after leaving the girls' room, washes his hands and his face. He feels flushed and excited and just a little bit sick. Not because anyone did or said anything, but because he always does in these situations. Evangeline only knows what Athos and Porthos and her husband told her about him of course, but meeting new people is always difficult for Aramis, even if it can never be as difficult as meeting people he's known his whole life. He gets out of the bathroom and passes the kitchen, stops in his tracks when he hears his name mentioned.

"Aramis seems to be very nice," he hears Evangeline say, her voice strangely tentative. "He's certainly very handsome. Porthos seems to be quite fond of him."

Still she sounds gentle and careful, as if she was talking about something of a delicate nature, something -

"Porthos loves him," Athos says softly. "There is no need to beat around the bush, Eve. I am quite aware of it."

It feels like a kick to the gut, hurts in all the best ways, and Aramis can't _move_. He knows he shouldn't eavesdrop, he never meant to do that in the first place, but he's still not moving when Evangeline speaks up again. "And how do you feel about that?"

Once more there is something in her voice, something that wasn't there while she talked to Aramis with her children and husband present. It's almost as if she was afraid of -

"Eve," Athos says, and that tone of voice Aramis knows what to do with. That tone of voice means Athos is fondly exasperated. "I am fine."

"You weren't _fine_ when he was with Jason or Sally," Evangeline says, just a hint of stubbornness in her voice. "You were everything but fine then."

Aramis' eyes widen, and his vision blurs, just a little. Please no, not that, he doesn't want -

"That was ten years ago, Eve," Athos says, and Aramis can hear the smirk in his voice, feels oddly better for it. "I am over that, believe it or not."

"But if it's serious between them -" Evangeline starts, just to be interrupted by Athos.

"It is," he states calmly. "They love each other, and I am happy for them. You need not fret about me, Eve. I am quite safe - Porthos was rather adamant about that, repeatedly so, over the years. I know he meant it - still means it. Aramis is - he is the first one who doesn't mind."

"What, he's not jealous of your lovely connection?" she asks, sounding incredulous. "Not even a little bit?"

"I think he likes it," Athos muses, his voice almost too soft to hear.

Aramis nearly has a heart-attack. A pleasant one. Because he _does_ like it, and he's so very relieved, is so very happy that … that he's not hurting Athos by being with Porthos.

"He lets me be a part of them," Athos adds, adding rhythm to Aramis' heart palpitations. "I never feel alone when I see them together. He lets me be Porthos' friend without feeling guilty for it. He does not resent me at all."

"He's even better than I thought then," Evangeline says while Aramis tries to get some air into his lungs. Her voice is much more robust than before, transports a lightness it lacked before, and for some strange reason that helps Aramis breathe. "I was expecting to find you trembling and in need of a huge glass of wine to be quite honest."

"I would have come to collect that sooner," Athos tells her, and Aramis can hear the smile in his voice. "Did you think I would suffer in silence for months?"

There's a pause, and then Eve clears her throat. "You've always done so before."

"That was different," Athos tells her, "and you know that."

"Yes, because Porthos was the one who made you voice your feelings," Evangeline scoffs. "Because he finally made you talk and told you that you would always be BFFs, no matter what … that he would never leave you."

"There you go," Athos drawls. "As I said before: I am quite safe."

She groans and Aramis finally finds the strength to move on - or rather move back. He has to wash his face again. Once he's done he returns to the living room. Porthos welcomes him with a fond smile, pulls him down next to him on the big leather couch and puts his arm around him while Thomas pours him a glass of wine.

"Did you get lost?" Porthos teases, and Aramis smiles, hides his face against Porthos' shoulder.

"Only for a moment."


	7. Chapter 7

They get home late that evening. Thomas and Evangeline keep them on their couch for a long time, and when Aramis and Porthos finally go to bed Porthos sinks onto the mattress with a grunt of utter content. "Thank goodness the Captain doesn't expect me before lunch tomorrow." 

Aramis follows him in, slips under the blanket and into Porthos' arms and takes a deep breath. "Can I ask you something?" he whispers, and Porthos blinks at him. Evidently he didn't expect Aramis to have any questions so late - or early - in the day. 

"Ask away," he murmurs, pulls Aramis deeper into his arms, closer against his chest. Normally Aramis would react to that by snuggling right up to Porthos and purring himself to sleep, but not tonight. Tonight he has a question. 

"Athos," Aramis says softly, "does he … does he date at all?" 

Porthos sighs. "No," he replies, sounding weary. "He doesn't. At least not for the last few years." 

Aramis nods to himself and rests his head on Porthos' chest. "I thought so." It makes sense. It explains more or less everything. 

Not to Porthos - Porthos makes a confused sound. "You thought so?" 

"Yes," Aramis yawns. He strokes his hand over Porthos' chest, watches its movement from under hooded lids. "I heard him talk to Evangeline today. I didn't mean to listen, it's just that … well, they were talking about me." 

Porthos holds his breath at that, and Aramis looks up at him, grinning slightly. "Athos got us her approval." 

Porthos narrows his eyes at him. "Are you teasing me?" 

Aramis drops a kiss to his chest. "I would never." 

That earns him a chuckle and a kiss to the cheek. "Go on, I like it." 

"The teasing?" Aramis asks, eyes wide and innocent, and Porthos grins at him, gives him a proper kiss. 

"The teasing," he confirms. 

Aramis beams at him. "Anyway, from what they were saying I figured that - well - that in the past there'd been some, ah, hiccups with, ehm -" Aramis bites his lip and looks up at Porthos through his lashes. 

He doesn't expect Porthos to be looking back at him the way he does - fond and soft and so full of affection that it hurts Aramis a little. "When I started to date," Porthos says quietly, "I did so because I wanted to. Started with girls, found out I liked boys too, and it was good, it was all good - for a while. Because Athos … he had a few dates here and there, sure, but I never got the feeling that he did it because he wanted to. He dated because it was expected of him." Porthos pulls Aramis a little closer, buries his hand in Aramis' hair and holds him tight. "Athos and I, we … we were always like this, you know? We were always close. He was my best friend, and I was his, and sometimes I dated people who … well. They weren't quite so appreciative of him as you are." 

Aramis gets a kiss at that point, and he closes his eyes, gets a little lost in the moment. Porthos pulls back far too soon for his liking, comes up for air and resumes his story while Aramis does his best to follow. "More importantly," he hears Porthos say, "Athos didn't like most of 'em either." 

Aramis understands why and how that's more important - that Athos is a constant in Porthos' life that even a romantic partner doesn't eclipse. To Porthos Athos is family. He's his best friend and his brother rolled into one, and while their relationship may be unusual, that doesn't make it less valid. They've always loved each other and they always will, and Aramis _knows_ that if he and Athos wouldn't get on that a relationship with Porthos would not be possible. He knows that, and he accepts it - not only because he has no other choice, but because he loves Porthos precisely the way he is … Athos and all. 

Aramis smiles and gives Porthos a little kiss, and Porthos kisses him back, soft and gentle, before he rumbles on. "Even if he did like 'em - cause they weren't all bad, you know," he says, "he still kept his distance. He was always … well … _sad_." 

Aramis understands that too. If it was him - he squeezes his eyes shut, presses closer to Porthos and hides his face against his neck. "He was afraid he'd lose you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can hardly blame him for that." 

"Thing is he never _said_ anything," Porthos growls. "He always pretended to be fine with it, always pretended to like even the ones he couldn't stand - for me. He did that for me." 

He strokes his fingers through Aramis' hair, and Aramis looks up at him, suddenly smiling. "Can't blame him for that either." 

Porthos huffs and gives him a squeeze. "You have no idea how happy I am that he likes you - and that you like him too." He strokes his fingertip over Aramis cheek, follows the line of his cheekbone and gently tweaks his earlobe. "I know that he was startin' to worry about me endin' up alone - because of him. He always blamed himself when my relationships didn't work out." 

Aramis bites his lip and swallows. He can imagine it all too clearly. He would probably do the same. No. He would most certainly do the same. 

"So no," Porthos murmurs. "Athos doesn't date. But then again he doesn't need to, does he?" He leans in, gives Aramis a kiss - a proper one, licks into his mouth and makes Aramis melt against him, kisses him just long enough to make him yearn for more. "He's got us," he whispers then, brushing his lips to Aramis' forehead so Aramis can feel his warm breath on his skin when he continues. "He's got everything he needs right here."


End file.
